


One Last Time

by MohawkAssassin



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Assassin's Creed - Freeform, Connor Kenway - Freeform, F/M, OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2284005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MohawkAssassin/pseuds/MohawkAssassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She gazed up at me with glistening eyes and intertwined my fingers into hers. And then I knew, without a doubt, that I loved her."</p>
<p>A story of frustration between an assassin and the daughter of an eminent baxter, with more than his scales and bakeware to hide behind. Will the two ever find a spark of comfort in the flames? A single thread of silverlining above the desolated wasteland of haunting memories? Or will they succumb to the restless hunger of chaos?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

            The vivacious town Boston used to be during most of a warm summer’s day was interrupted with the fall of a heavy rain. Streets were practically empty and abandoned in a temporary state. The only existent sound was of the rain pouring down onto the damp cobblestone trails, snaking like veins of the city. In consonance with the cries of the skies were the heavy footsteps of a man who was seemingly accustomed to this place and strived without hesitation. His head was held up high and he walked with so much confidence in himself, not allowing the rain to stop him or slow him down.

            His eyes peaked through the hood on his head and were set upon a small store just up ahead. It was the smallest in the area, but the most noticeable one. The yellow light beamed through the windows and danced onto the surface it fell. The smallest smile lifted on his lips as he sped up his pace, splashing into puddles of water along the way, and not seeming to care a bit about it. Before he found himself in front of the store, uncountable thoughts seemed to rush through his over thinking mind. His eyes shifted from one side to another, making sure nobody was following him. But later on he wondered himself why he was paranoid. Probably he feared a possible return from something he tried to neglect. A ghost, or even a spirit perhaps, haunting him for quite some time now. Coming and going as it pleased, cursing him with ceaseless fear and sleepless nights.

            His sight lifted to read the cursive letters inscribed upon the wooden sign, above the door. He knew them too well. The mysterious assassin had a warm feeling bundle up in his heart and couldn’t help but smile once more. _La boulangerie des Rochelle_ , he whispered to himself, despite an accent which he failed to ace. Now that he was under the shelter of the store, he grabbed the peaked hem of his hood and let it fall in one smooth motion. His arm extended towards the door, slightly knocking and then backing away. With his hands clasped and tapping his fingers together, waiting was an impossible task. Soon enough, he could hear the sound of heavy footsteps becoming louder into his direction. The door unlocked and opened wide, revealing a tall, bulky male figure behind.

            “Salut (Hello), Connor! What a pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed, friendly as could be. He knew the young lad before him was awfully introvert and sought for a way to correct that. But again, he seemed uncomfortable, clenching his hands tighter together and looking at his feet.

            “Hello, sir.”

            “What brings you here at a time like this?” He peered the empty streets with his head slightly cocked out the door frame, the rain falling heavier by the moment like a thousand pieces of broken glass. “Is there a… situation?” He asked silently. Once again he pinned his view on Connor.

            The young man tried so hard to not look into his eyes and find the right words “No, not today. I… I-I had some business to attend, you see, sir, not far from here and so I…” He murmured while he pointed with his open hand to the distance, even he wasn’t sure where. _Damn, he failed in telling a simple lie to save his head._ Mr. Rochelle gave him a classic doubtful look, running his fingers through his duck-tail beard. Connor gulped in hard, before the man’s heavy arm grabbed him and pulled him inside.

            “Well why didn’t you say so? You are always welcome here.” He beamed with his thick, but amiable tone, his arm rested upon Connor’s shoulder. He was clearly uncomfortable, but tried so hard not to give in. “And please, call me Vincent. We are not strangers anymore.”

            Connor nodded with a smile he imposed himself to fake. He walked with an unnoticeably faster pace than Mr. Rochelle, whose hand was on the assassin’s back. The voices in laughter he started to hear were so familiar to him, leading through the corridor and turns. Vincent patted on his back to take his attention: “Connor, please consider what I have talked to you about… You see, she can be quite stubborn at first.”

            “Sir, as much as I want to respect your opinion and heed a warning I should not underestimate, it is required to reconsider this. It could be a great opportunity.” Connor stopped his walk and began to lower his voice, cautiously.

            It didn’t take more than those words to shatter the smile on his face. Vincent’s blue orbs lost the life in them and became cold as ice. “My family’s safety is in jeopardy. I can’t simply take this step. We are much safer here.”           

            “What is it that gives you this conclusion? I have saved people’s lives there myself and no threat is to come to them as long as I stand.”

            “Connor, this is not about protecting them against our enemies, but our own allies.” His voice became louder, raucous to the ear. “Our whole kind is a different type of threat. For years I am struggling to protect them from our order, from our cause, from the entire organization masked behind people who we assume as ordinary. If my family, if the people dear to me knew about the-” Those last words trailed off, when their dispute was cut short with a call from the room just around the corner. They turned heads simultaneously and stood their ground.

            “Papa? Il y a un problème? (Father? Is there a problem?)”

            Vincent took a deep breath. He was calm, but sad. Connor stole a gaze of a broken smile with the corner of his eyes. Connor then patted on Vincent’s back, the same way he did earlier, but this time for giving him some sort of strength. The French man was grateful and continued walking slowly with the assassin. Now he forgot everything that happened. The events of the past weeks wiped their way out of his memory, and his mind was set on the present.

            The room was relatively small. A round, rosewood table was located in the center of the room, a couple chairs scattered round it. But how could he ignore the friendly smiles lighten up especially for him?

            “Bonsoir (Good evening) , Connor!” Those honeyed words created a warm, bubbly feeling in his stomach.

            Élisabeth Rochelle was the wife of Sir Vincent. The newlyweds immigrated to America many years ago. For Élisabeth to fulfill her dreams. But for Vincent, his duty. Years passed until this present day, and they were blessed with three children: two boys and a girl. Their names were Félix, Thomas and Aquiline.

            “Good evening to you all.” He greeted. Aquiline sat with her back faced to him. She slowly turned around and nodded lightly, lazily. The brothers stood watch outside the window, peeking through the blinds.

            “Hello, Connor! Long time no see. Where on earth have you been?” Thomas beamed with a smile and then looked at his older brother, who was unaware of the guest. Too concentrated surveying the area, as Connor, or his family usually would see him do. Félix received a hit on the back by Thomas, turning to him with his hands ready for a brawl and their icy gazes meeting but then he saw the assassin standing there with his hands clasped.

            “Well, well, well!” Félix walked up to him, for a handshake. He stood his ground close to him, whispering. “Anything I should prepare myself for..?”

            Connor shook his head briefly with an inaudible ‘no’ and Félix backed away, before the others could see a thing. Then he took a seat next to Aquiline and stayed as still as possible. She turned her attention to him. She was munching on a small crumpet and continued to stare at the guest. He found himself uncomfortable and tried to avoid her dark, eerie leer. But it was impossible. To make the task even more impossible, she turned her body to his side and pointed her legs straight to him. He thanked himself for the heavy robes on his body, hiding the goose bumps formed all over his rough skin. Aquiline swallowed, taking time in licking her lips.

            “So…” She began to start a conversation, after a very awkward moment. She was always dodgy, from what he’d been able to understand from her, even if it was like buckets of water in comparison to the ocean.

            “What do you wish to discuss?”

            “Have I claimed to you the need of any kind of discussion...?”

            “It seemed so… Yo-” Seeing how he was starting to trip over his words, she chuckled.

            “I’m just messing with you, relax.”

            She simply smiled at him. A few strands of hair which escaped from his half-ponytail were spread beautifully on his perfect masculine frame of his face. Connor was easy to anger as he was to fool. Such a naïve man. She was indeed young and inexperienced, but she still had picked up a thing or two from him. The men who were outside the Connor Bubble were vulgar, cheap wannabes in her opinion. Aquiline hoped most of men could be this way. Naïve, but the good kind of naïve.

            He didn’t move a single muscle, caught in a tight rather than sticky situation. The closest thing he was able to do was reach his hand and scratch his cheek, which was always ticked by the braid made on his left. Looking around, trying to escape from being allured into her, he realized he forgot about the others in the room. Vincent stood close to the masonry oven with the long, wooden peel in his hand. There was no bread left to bake, yet he seemed ready. Connor’s squirms of discomfort worried him, but at the same time left him to wonder.

            “Mon ami (my friend), is there something wrong?”

            “No. No, sir.” Vincent thinned his lips. Back at the homestead, Godfrey had a habit of entitling him as ‘the Lord of the Manor’. Connor never liked it when people addressed to him with formality. He was simply their friends, and saw them all so. The native never was tyrannical, but preferably democratic. But when it came to people like Vincent, he’d never put himself in his shoes.

            “Don’t hide anything from me, boy.” He grasped the peel harder, his knuckles turning into a ghostly white color. He looked fierce, but his voice was calm.

            His syrup filled orbs darted from Vincent to Aquiline, and were ping-ponging around the entire room. Connor confirmed quietly that he was not hiding anything. _Blasted lie. Twice this day._ But a white lie wouldn’t harm a fly, would it? Mr. Rochelle took a seat facing Connor. He was not in the mood for another staring contest to happen right there, not at this moment.

            “I reckon that you have discussed my offer with your family, sir.” Connor initiated the topic, hoping for the best of results. He knew how Aquiline was on his side, if not on other occasions, this could have been it. And a perfect one it was. And of course she was ready to take the fall, her ears would have been up and in the air now if she was anything but human.

            “Ah, oui (yes) ! Thank you for reminding me, Connor.” Words directed to Connor, but while she was looking at her father straight in the eyes.

            “We have talked about this, many times in fact. My answer is no.” He spoke no more. Élisabeth stood behind with her hands on his broad shoulders. She knew the type of man Connor was dealing with, and wanted to prevent any trouble from happening. An invisible electrical spark was already forming between them, inevitably.

            “It would be an honor for me to have a family such as the Rochelles to take shelter at the homestead.” Vincent didn’t reply, instead he waited for Connor to finish. “Please, there must be a way to help. I am in debt to the aid this family has offered me and I wish to repay the hospitality. For now, this is the only option I have available. It is also safe and more profitable for both our sides.”

            “Then you are free to contact us whenever a new option pops out of nowhere!” He said with a sarcastically friendly voice and a motion of his hand upwards. Connor scooted his chair back and got up, with his hands gripping on the sides of the table, his right arm was close to Aquiline. She looked up at him and saw the tension on his features. The corner of his eyes were crinkled, his jaw was tensed. Thomas, unlike Félix, found some truth in Connor’s words. But he kept quiet and laid low, showing respect for his father.

            “I will not stand idle and wait for the worst to happen. You know what dangers await out there.” He extended his arm and pointed to the window. Vincent really did know the dangers out there, along with the danger he brought to his people. “They are like a pack of blood-thirsty wolves, hiding within shadows and dead ends for their prey. And at this moment you are leading not only yourself, but this entire family into the dark. Think about this. I wish no harm to ever come to you all.”

            The assassin felt a hand on his arm, pulling him down. He could not describe how much he hated being touched by anyone. Even he did not know the source of this phobia, but he knew who to blame _._ He tried so hard not to pull away from Aquiline, and sat. Élisabeth massaged her husband’s shoulders in a slow rhythm, who now had his head low and sunk into deep thought. His fingers brushed through his beard. Connor would rarely open up to people as much as he did that day. Yes, he did feel responsible for the Rochelles. The family of an assassin would never make it long enough and was as good as dead.

            “I should go…” He mumbled after a considerable amount of silence passed by.

            “Why so soon? We haven’t even gotten you anything to eat.” Félix responded.

            “No, please. I just need some time to myself. That is all.” He stood up and pushed the chair inside the table. “Now if you excuse me…”

            With a greeting and a small bow of his head, he was off. The footsteps faded from their ears as he faded into the shadows of the corridors. Everyone held their silence. Aquiline tapped her fingers onto the wooden surface in front of her. Her temper was boiling like water in a kettle which quickly was about to spill out onto the fire below with a ferocious hiss. With a slam of her hand on it, she got up and ran to follow him.

            “Wait, Connor!” She shouted. He was between the door frame, with his hands on the hems of his hood. Hearing her voice out of nowhere made him turn his head and drop his hands.

            “What? Have I forgotten my things behind?” He checked his holsters and pouch, but she held his arms apart to his sides.

            “No no, it’s not that. I wanted to apologize from my father’s side. He can be rough sometimes. But it was never easy for him…” Aquiline crossed her arms and looked at him, then outside. The rain had eased, but the wind didn’t stop its howling. She leaned on the door frame beside him.

            “It is not easy for none of us, but we all can find some comfort in this life. Maybe he is right about this. He is more experienced in life, I should not have angered him. But I did not expect this argument today.”

            “Having more experience in life is nothing! He is stuck with the old mentality of his younger days. The mentality which wants to make little Thomas a furner and me a pickelet maker. I don’t want this for my life, I have far more purposes.” Despite her brothers being older, Thomas would still remain her little Thomas. Aquiline always looked after him, stopping him from playing games and pranking. Later on with her joining and the two getting a good laugh together. All Connor could think of that moment was why she was never capable of talking openly with her father this way and express her feelings. But he could not forget the place of a colonial woman in her family. Work all day, chores, getting married to a relatively unknown person. Taking care of her new family more intensely than the first.

            Her brunette hair swayed across her face from a sudden gust of the wind, shivers traveled along her spine. They remained motionless, Connor not knowing how to answer. Taking advantage of his considerable height, he peaked below to look at her face. Even though her head was still lowered, he could still see. He found it delightful how innocent she seemed.

            “I am afraid I have to leave. It has become dark. My manor is far and I will have to camp in the woods for the night.”

            Aquiline straightened her body and fixed the apron she wore on top of her dress when realization struck her mind “Of course, yes… Err… Forgive me for keeping you here longer.” She started muttering a few choice words of forgiveness but he gestures his hand that it was not any big deal. “When will you be visiting us again? Today wasn’t much of a visit. I mean, in my opinion.”

            “I have a few… contracts here next week, expect me by then.”

            The assassin pulled the hood on his head. It made him feel safe in its own way. They bid their farewells and parted their ways, at least, he parted his. Aquiline following him with her curious gaze and mused to herself about the adventures he’s been on, the things he’d seen and experienced, far from the ordinary. Her days were like the ones before but his were colored with uncountable tones of excitement and thrill.

            Following him until he was out of reach from her eyes, she slipped in the building, shutting the door with a loud thud. Back inside, everyone looked at her as if they’d seen a phantom. She met their astounded expressions, one at a time.

            “What?” She opened her arms in confusion, moving towards the window her brothers were by.

            “Did he say anything to you? Was he alright? Angry?” Her older brother inquired and lifted her chin, their heads aligned.

            “No, he left calmly…”

            “And are _you_ alright, ma petite (my little one) ?”

            “Oui (yes), I think…”

            Aquiline leaned forward, her brother planting a soft, warm kiss on her forehead. She smiled and swept her body close to the window, pulling the blinds down and focusing on the empty streets with an eerie glow, the solemn row of colonial houses, and further above the starless coal sky. The full moon was at its peak this night, reflecting light upon the world below it. She hoped, just a slight hope, that wherever he was at that exact moment, he could look above the crystal orb hanging in a field of darkness. And maybe he could keep her in his memories, the way she kept him until the day would come when he would visit the adequate French bakery as he takes a right turn, on Pond Street.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is all about Aquiline, and I've also added a new character, whom will seem useless, but plays an important role. Enjoy! Connor will appear in the next, so don't worry xD

            She roused up early, when the roosters began their wake-up song. A smile lifted on her face as she lifted from her bed. Her backbones crackled under her skin when she stretched. Her eyes turned to the rest of the room. Félix was snoring like a bear, and Thomas hugged his pillow tight against him like his life depended on it. _Why do I even have to put up to this?_ Aquiline rolled her eyes and walked to the mahogany wardrobe, opening its doors. Same old shifts, same old stays, and dust. The last of which was flying about. The light penetrated through the window and in that moment a spectacle of dust twirled around her. She grabbed all she needed and started to dress up and get herself ready for another day.

            “Bonjour (Good morning), Aqui.” Élisabeth sung with each syllable. Aquiline walked to her and raised an eyebrow, surprised. _What’s gotten into her?_ She secured her pockets tight into the walk. Élisabeth let go of the rolling pin and wiped her hands all over her powdered apron, then placed them on her daughter’s shoulders. “Can you please do this for me? I will work with the oven.”

            “Ou-est papa (Where is father) ?” She asked her mother, worried. Élisabeth took some time, thinking what to tell Aquiline, who now was digging into her soul with puzzled eyes.

            “He had an errand to run.” Briefly explaining and then turning her head away. “Those lazy boys! Have they not awakened yet?”

            “Non… pas encore… (No… not yet…)”

            Élisabeth puffed and with the special walk she had, she tottered along to the boys to wake them up. Aquiline and her childlike laugh fed the atmosphere positively as she kneaded the dough. Kneading and kneading repeatedly, her life was reflected into that mixture. Feeling like a fool to equalize herself to simple bread in its early stages. Her hands got all sticky, she tried to peel it off her. Indeed it was a mess. As was her mind in difficult times as those. Contagious was the sadness she felt, trying to hold onto her. It was nothing more than a parasite, sucking her life fluid until the last drop. Aquiline took a pinch of flour and sprinkled it all over.

            “Just a dash of happiness here… a hint of love…” said Aquiline, grabbing a handful of flour and spraying it onto the whole dough “And much, much more caution…”

            She worked on the dough until her fingers felt sore, until her knuckles whitened and soon reddened. She’d put a lot of energy onto all that mess that simply had to be baked, cut and sold out to strangers she would or wouldn’t see again. _Hell, easier than my life anyway._

She sat herself on the counter with her arms folded together. While she was taking her time in relaxing, Élisabeth returned shortly.

            “Aqui- Ohh mon dieu (Ohh my god)! Look at your stays and petticoat! Did you not tie an apron before? It was over there,” She pointed at the apron which was hung onto the hook, nailed to the wall.

            “Maman (Mother) , I’m alright. I will just-” She dug herself further to avoid her mother spouting words at her for her carelessness.

            “No no no, the money I payed for this was not a waste!” Élisabeth grabbed her daughter by the arm and cleaned the flour covering her clothing. She grunted words in her mother tongue, but Aquiline could put a few pieces of them together: “Comme un enfant…un petit enfant… (Like a child… Like a little child…)”

            Aquiline broke from her mother’s grip, harshly “Mother, please! I can handle myself perfectly! I am to be eighteen within a fortnight. My coevals are all married and with children.”

            “And do you want us to marry you away as well? To stop paying for your education and protection?”

            “No, but if you cannot trust me with a simple task, how can you trust me with another person?”

            Élisabeth gave an angry look at her daughter, wanting to slap that stubborn head of hers. Aquiline showed no sign of fear, no emotion. Her eyes were a burning mirror of anger and anguish. They played the démodé staring game Aquiline had always triumphed without an effort. Élisabeth noticed a vision of a young girl dancing in her eyes. Her moves melancholically passionate, swaying across Aquiline’s orbs, executing what seemed similar to the Allemande, but withdrawn. Merely herself and her red attire swiftly gliding. When she turned her face to Élisabeth, the girl mischievously winked back with a wicked spark in her eyes. It was no one except her. A much younger, much idealistic Élisabeth. With a respectful bow and a swipe of her dress, she spirally disappeared into the oblivious twilight of Aquiline’s eyes.

            “Woohoo… mother…?” Aquiline’s voice snapped Élisabeth out of it. She did not know how long she’d been away from the present day, in her mind.

            “Can you stop by the dairy for me? I had to purchase a couple of items on the list I made but, malheureusement (unfortunately), I cannot hope to finish all this with only a pair of hands, you see.” Élisabeth chuckled and stepped back to the table where the piece of paper was on. Aquiline took a hold of it and started to read the products.              

            “Est-ce que c’est tout? (Is this all?) ”

            “Oui. Are you able of reading?” Aquiline nodded and continued to read quickly. She had the privilege to pick up some sort of education here and there. As Élisabeth mentioned above, such privilege required a certain fee, tutors weren’t often fond of giving knowledge to women based on this patriarcatic system looming above their heads.

            “Tres bien (Very good.) . Alors (Then) , I best be on my way now.”

            “You can stay a bit longer.”

            “The boys are awake now, they can help you with the chores.”

            “But…”

            “Mother, please.”

            Aquiline snatched a basket and secured her neckerchief. Thomas stepped in the room, yawning and looking at his little sister. She punched him in the stomach, causing him to move back with a groan.

            “Quel belle salut (What a beautiful greeting) , Aqui!” He grunted. “Je t’aime aussi (I love you too) !”

            “Help mother out with the store, I will return shortly.” Thomas realized Aquiline was rather serious. He squinted his blue eyes at his mother, and she returned with a nod. As a family, they had mastered the _art_ of mimical communication between each other.

            She walked to the door, and turned around. Now all three of them were there. She tried to speak, to say something, to say “I love you all, papa aussi (father also).” But no, Aquiline left them behind without a word. She traced the streets trying to avoid everyone. One hand tightened her basket, another tightened the knot on her neckerchief.

            The dairy was not too far, per se, but it did require several streets to cover. Her mind worked on vain thoughts: _Shall I take Winter Street? Or Marlbrough? I will be forced to be found in School Street… Ohh dear, what if they see me near the school? There she goes, they say, the girl who is privately tutored while we sit here enclosed with all these witches and their broomsticks. Hah! If only they knew…_

 _  
_So she took the way of School Street. Not a common choice she would make, but she had a dare devil beneath her skin. Familiar faces started to appear out of nowhere. Once upon a time she used to be part of them. _Please, allow them to have forgotten about me,_ she pleaded to a being many times more superior than her, somewhere, out there in the great unknown. But memory was something that _if_ she was wise enough, she couldn’t underestimate or fiddle around with it.

            “Ohh, look! Are my two eyes deceiving me, or is that the Furner’s daughter?” With an obvious tone of sarcasm, those words were the first she could make up after moments, _which seemed as if it was forever_ , of people whispering. The shadow-eyed French tried her best not to make a sound, or move, to continue her way. But the catcalls following behind were making her patience tremble. Aquiline turned around, surprised.

            “ Dale? Dale Prescott?” She stepped back, still holding onto her neckerchief, now grabbing on to it tighter. Aquiline eyed the owner of the disembodied voice as if he was make-belief.

            “How do you do, Aquiline?” The young man greeted, dipping his head forward to her respect.

            “I am quite well, _merci_ _(thank you)_! It has been long since we have last met… How does your family? I had the impression you left for New York...”

            “ ’Tis all who thought the same as you.” His voice saddened, concerning her. “I was no use to my family, I believe. My head was roaming about in the high clouds and could not pull it back down. I decided to go on my own way, to find my own path. ” He was using gestures alongside his summary to make everything sound interesting. Aquiline sighed. He reminded her of brother, Thomas, the same idealistic spirit in them both.

            “I am truly sorry about it… But, look on the bright side. Now you have an entire world ahead of you, nothing cannot stop you now.”

            “Your words are true, my dear _.” Dear? How does he come up with the audacity to… but he’s polite… handsome is he along with his manners… what the years have done to him, he is a grown man now…or better, a Greek god…_ “But I would prefer to settle down anytime sooner. I do not want to get myself killed.” He chuckled, which made her smile and not take her eyes off him no matter what. His hair was still the same as she remembered. A mess of flaxen hair, glimmering like gold under the heat of a morning sun. She was lost in his sapphire eyes, and envied them also. They were simply mesmerizing. Her entire family, excluding her mother, had a variety of blue shaded eyes. She had an impression that if she could only be like them, she could have been more presentable.

            Having nothing to say, Dale cleared his throat. He wanted to keep the conversation going on longer.

            “May I ask, where are you headed to at this time?”

            “Treamount.” Aquiline replied. “Now, by your leave…”

            “Wait,” He grabbed onto her arm, She looked at the way he held it, then back up at him. “A thousand pardons… May I assist you?” he spoke kindly and let go of her. She looked around to see if anyone had an eye on the two of them, and she was wrong. But she did not want word to spread out, in times like this.

            “I don’t think it’s a good idea…”

            “At least at the end of the street?” She shook her head. He felt foolish to have his offer declined. But he thought again: _this is not the time._

            “Very well then, Aquiline. But I would very much desire to see you soon. I’ll be in Beacon whenever you wish. My friend and I cannot possibly find something better to do so-”

            “You decide to show off your mockery to women and old friends?” She tilted her head, playing a fool.

            “That was not me! It was Scott, do you remember Scott Holton?” Dale turned and pointed to a group of boys. Mischievous, no doubt.

            “How can I forget?” Aquiline exclaimed. “If you’ll excuse me, I honestly have to get going.”

            “Forgive me…” her _sent-to-earth_ Greek god bowed again, holding her hand and kissing it. “Goodbye…” He straightened back up with a smile. She smiled the same way. 

            “Goodbye, Dale.”

            Her mind didn’t want to stop there, of course. Dale lightened up her whole day with the heavenly glow around him _._ His smile, his manners, his ideal conduct around her. She never stopped beaming brighter than the sun-rays falling all around her until this moment, but then thought again. What about the ideology based on the Connor Bubble she had? As much as she did not want to rush things, she concluded on having a point she shared with mother this morning: _Every girl her age was already married now._ But marriage, the entire idea of marriage restricted her wildest dreams. Such an act would be considered as suicide.

 _“What am I thinking? Enough of this, it’s useless…”_ uttered the French to herself and shook her head.

            Treamount was right in front of her now. Aquiline pressed on and walked hesitantly. She started to wonder how long her small talk with Dale lasted, the streets were full and if she didn’t wiggle herself free she would be swallowed alive into the large wave of the colonial market. It did not bother her, though. She was part of this wide community of people, most of them she did not know. But in one way or another, she could not avoid any interactions. Even to meet a new face every day, a face you may or may not get the chance to ever see twice. The riotous voices were music to her ears and fed her up with a vital energy. But would this energy be enough to get her through the rest of this unpredictable day?

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update, I've been busy...  
> The story's getting a bit sad, but I promise it'll lighten up soon :)  
> Here's another chapter. About the Mohawk sentence, I doubt it's correct, even though I asked someone who knew the language.  
> Enjoy and don't forget to leave feedback!

_Her deserted wish came true, just as she hoped it would. Aquiline would constantly be in the young assassin’s mind. From early daybreak to late sundown, her visage painted over his heart, the chords of her mellow voice twisted tight around it into a knot made of nothing but the chaotic turmoil of mixed feelings he sought to resolve._

            Connor was paying his usual visit to Boston. Not a cloud floating in the tedious midday skies. He took the rooftops this time, leaping from one to another gracefully, invisible to the eyes of the world below his skilled agility. A trait he managed to master when he was but a sapling, which planted its roots deep into a new piece of ground he grew up calling _home_. The cities, monuments, bustling streets along with the people who inhabited them were his playground. It was his choice to play along the rules or to apply the old-hat outcry his Creed also applied across the centuries: _nothing is true, everything is permitted._ This choice remained nestled safely in the palm of his hand. Since the moment he wore the meaningful, emblematic robes he carried on his body, now as meaningful as his second skin.

            Dropping below, Connor caught his unsteadied breath. The Native walked through the crowds of people, also scouting his surroundings. Two dozen feet away, he spotted a familiar figure: Stephane. Connor attempted to figure out why the chef was out of character, he could sense something was not going the way it was supposed to.

            “Stephane,” Connor caught the Frenchman off guard. He turned his head and encountered his alarmed expression.

            “We are just in time, I hope.”

            “In time for what?”

            “I warned them, Connor. You know I was persistent. All is going to fall apart.”

            On the contrary, Connor did not understand. His mind was lost into the maze of enigmas Stephane created as a barrier. Whatever he was talking about, whatever it was he intended to say, he better say it, and fast. Connor was grunting impatiently.

            “The Rochelles! Aquiline!” He finally answered, startling the Native. Stephane knew the affection Connor had towards Aquiline. She was probably the only soft spot on that entire mass of brutal animosity. And so, he would do anything to protect her from harm.

            “What?!” Connor scrunched his face in disbelief.

            “They have been revealed. It is only a matter of time befo-”

            The assassin pushed him aside and overtook him before he could finish, but this did not mean he didn’t get what Stephane was about to say. He tried calling out on Connor to stop and wait for him, but his voice would lose itself into the distance created between them.

            He was aware of the fact that he was running, but not of his god speed. A surge of adrenaline rushed through his body as the road below him blurred away. Connor’s footsteps and heavy breathing were all he could hear and the world around him did not matter anymore. He was surprised, actually, how beads of sweat started to trickle down his forehead. The assassin had been used to running non-stop for hours a day and not show any sign of weakness. Each and every time his feet pressed against the tessellated routes, anxiousness would press harder inside of him.

            Connor was now face to face with the bakery. He knocked on the door, which was useless. He approached his ear to the door and heard nothing at first, but then much more. Ejecting his hidden blades, he stepped back. Connor took a deep breath and kicked the door by hitting it as hard as he could with his right foot. After breaking it down he started to sneak through the corridor, against the walls and following the noises. He retracted his blades, not wanting them to come to use. Deadly, perilous noises they were. He tried to make himself believe that his unusual entrance into the bakery didn’t cause any commotion. But he felt someone moving towards him.

            “Who is there?” The assassin was wholly varnished with shadows, but everything about that place and whoever it was infested with, was sinister and beyond. “Show yourself… I’m warning you…”

            The man moved timidly along the corridor and could feel it in his gut that this would not end anywhere near to well. He patrolled around so, that he ended up tangled into the darkness. _Why was I assigned for this?_ _Their whipping-boy is all I am…_ He spoke to himself silently as he plodded, his hands wandering nowhere in the air. Hearing a sudden but frightening crack, he slowly stepped backwards until his back fumbled onto a hard surface, restricting his steps. His breath began to hitch until the assassin jabbed the man right on his windpipe with his digits recklessly, causing him to fall unconscious.

            After dragging the body aside, Connor resumed his tranquil devoir, and feeling lucky he did not have to take another life yet. But for the remaining day, he was far from certainty. He could not think of this now, not when everything was about to crumble down.

            Shimming alongside the wall, the noises came back to the assassin once more, but now the noises transformed into words he could barely make out:

            “…As tu _une idée_ de combien de temps j'ai attendu pour ce jour? (Do you have an idea how long I have waited for this day?)” Due to the unfamiliarity, Connor was not able to even guess the stranger’s voice. The language and sharp accent multiplied his confusion. He decided not to jump into attack now, but to watch and see what the meaning of this was.

            “Please, don’t do this… je vous en prie (I beg you) …”    Vincent begged to the hostile stranger. The assassin leaned against the wall behind him like it was the only solid thing left to hold onto. His head cocked to the side but he remained alert, trying so hard not to make them aware of his presence. His heart was beating louder than drums of war and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it’d shoot itself right out of his ribcage.

            “Begging for my mercy shall not work, Vincent.”

            “I seek no mercy! My conscience is clear, Antoine, and what about yours?” He revolted. Connor inquired the name under his breath, and then continued to follow their exchange. He could hear Élisabeth lamenting madly. Her tears rained upon them all. This was _not_ the family he grew accustomed to.

            “Where is my daughter?!” She finally cracked. Her demanding tone wasn’t approved much by the attacker, he who slapped hardly across her face before she was able to call out to her. The echoes streamed through the corridor vigorously.

            “Patience, ma chérie (my dear),” He sneered “All is being taken care of as we speak…”

            _Being taken care of? What does he mean? I must find her._ And to do so was hazardous, he’d risk a great deal. Connor was in fact, not only mindful of this, but he could throw his own life into the wind and he wouldn’t care less than at present.

            He performed a forward roll, furtive as can be. The overall light illuminating that minatory bakery was already dimmed out. He continued against the walls as he did before. Connor had never been further into this building except the heart of it, in which the family was now held captive in. But now there was no instinct or special talent required, but for him to follow ahead.

            There was a door on the left, and his hand lingered on the handle for a few moments before turning it agonizingly slow. His eyes darted without rhythm as the door creaked open. _This is their bedroom._ A crammed, small room it was. He was having second thoughts about investigating here. _Ske nen hake onen (pull yourself together), Ratonhnhake:ton._

            The assassin stepped inside and was appalled of what he found: blood on the floor, two male bodies laying on top each-other, dead. He was _not_ alone in that room. He grabbed his tomahawk and as he readied himself, a voice came from behind him.

            “Connor?!” his name rang into his ears and he felt a tight pull on his heart. Connor turned around and found who he was looking for, but in an awfully bizarre state.

            Aquiline stood there, shocked. Her eyes were able to inflate beyond her sockets, which could convince anyone that she’d seen a ghost or far more than one. He looked down, to her blood-stained dress, punctured with holes across her ribcage. She held a bloody knife in her hand dependently, but soon dropped it and they both heard it clunk to the floor. Aquiline felt weak to her knees, her breath ragged and tears continued to fall down her soiled face. Connor walked close to her and prevented her fall, gripping her shoulders and pulling her face to face with him.

            “Aquiline? What has happened here?” He demanded, but she could only utter incoherent words of distress. “Aquiline! Answer me!”

            He shook her back and forth. Connor knew how to act in many situations, but this was not one of them. Her lips quivered, her vulnerability was all she could give. Her head bashed on his chest and her arms extended to wrap around his body. Connor locked his fingers with hers and tried pulled away, but soon succumbed. Aquiline began to utter words, muffede against him.

            “Je suis un tueuer. (I am a killer) A killer.”

            “Aquiline, please.” Connor lifted her chin.

            “Who are they? Who are these people, Connor?”

            She had all the rights to ask, though he detested inquiry. He knew what they are, yes, but not _who_ they are.

            “Listen to me, I promise you an explanation. Now I must help your family, stay put and do not leave this room.” He walked to the door, but she grasped onto his arm, and let go again.

            “Connor, I am afraid.”

            “Fear not, for I am here.” He put her to ease, somehow. Their eyes locked shortly before he turned away and left. Aquiline closed the door and focused on the two motionless bodies in front of her. She noticed a strange symbol printed on their waistcoats. Afraid of getting any closer to her own doing, Aquiline curled up against the door and sobbed dolefully.

            _One down, four to go._ Connor carried on, planning on how this would work. If he approached straightforwardly, the chances were that the readied muskets or daggers would strike.

            Out of nowhere, Stephane appeared just across the hallway, with his cleaver brandishing in the air. Connor froze. He tried to motion Stephane to stay back, waving his hands incoherently.

            “Vous et votre famille devez payer pour ça...(Your and your family will pay for this)” The voice began to speak again. Stephane’s eyes were on stalks, he trying to draw back. Connor felt even idler. Now both assassins were framing the door on each side.

            “Pour le jour ou vous avez pris ce qui était à moi… (For the day when you took what was mine)”

            _“Connor, we must…”_

_“What is he speaking of?”_

_“Connor, there is no time!”  
            _

            “À MOI (MINE).”

Aquiline raised her head from her knees. The sounds ripped through her ears as if she was right next to it. _Gunshots._ Maybe if she ignored it, they would go away. _Everything will fine._ But they weren’t stopping.She stepped up and opened the door behind her. Her bare feet pressed onto the wooden surface. Chilly waves electrocuted her entire body. Fear gripped her with its icy razor fingers and tried pulling her back. Lethal cries were what sent her nimble legs running as fast as they could.  
             


 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm extremely sorry for not updating. School, studying and projects have taken up most of my time.  
> I don't know how good you all think this is, but I have big plans for this fanfiction.
> 
> Aquiline is stubborn and not easy to deal with, but now she has to get through the loss of her family, which only serves to worsen the situation.  
> Will she stay with the Assassin to learn more about her true identity? Or will she turn her back on it all, ignoring the truth lying before her eyes?  
> Enjoy!  
> Feedback is appreciated.

            The light was slowly fading as a mantle of darkness wrapped insistently around a warm summer’s day. The soft breeze turned into a strong wind all of a sudden, and stars twinkled up high, dancing playfully.

            The assassin held the reigns in his hands and studied his surroundings _. She is not safe here anymore. Take her away. Far, far away._ These words played in his head over and over. Connor looked below at the much smaller and much distressed figure he held close to him. She'd given no sign of consciousness yet and he wondered how she would take the news, if there was actually something she did not already know of. He looked around and back at her constantly. It was pitch black now and nothing but the moon lit the way. He had to set up a camp here tonight or God knows what dangers await ahead of the road. The horse halted into place with a pull of the reins. Connor steadied himself off and continued to carry her in his arms, wrapped around a fleece blanket. Suddenly, she began to jolt.

            “Aquiline?” He questioned. She responded with whimpers and dreadful cries. "Calm down, I beg of you... please!"

            “Dégage! Ne me touche pas! (Go away! Do not touch me!)” She blustered and broke free. Aquiline stumbled on the ground and would have made a run for it, if he did not hold her by the waist.

            “It's me, look Aquiline.” He calmly suggested, but he was afraid. It was not everyday a woman would go berserk in his arms. She gave up the fight shortly but the assassin insisted on keeping her close.

            “Let go of me.”

            “I shall not.”

            “Connor, please.” She begged. He let go of her, but his hands still roamed around. The French wanted to repel again.

“Aquiline, look at me.” He protested. Silence was all she could answer him with. He then repeated himself without missing a beat: “Look. At me.”

            She slowly craned her head and met his fiery gaze. Aquiline used to tremble at the idea of the Native being angry. Now he was more than angry, and at nobody else but her. Connor held the blanket in his hands and counted to ten in his mind. He took a deep breath and carefully swaddled her.

            “We do not wish for you to catch a cold out here, do we?” The assassin whispered, in attempt to correct his abrasive attitude towards her.

            She shook her head hesitantly and felt a heat growing inside of her. Tears began to fall and rolled down her flushed cheeks. Aquiline eyed him and her lips slightly parted with an unspoken question.

            "We are going to camp here, tonight. The road ahead of us is fraught with danger and I would not be wise to risk. Understood?"

            "Yes."

            "Good." Connor stood up and she lifted her head. "I am going to take care of the horse and return shortly to set up the campfire."

  
            Aquiline nodded. He ambled away and did not mind looking back. If she still pitied her life, she would not budge. Connor took in the cold air, ruffled his hair, and tried to cleanse his turbid mind. He could not believe it. Aquiline, The last of the Rochelle. Guilt was a weak word to describe what he felt. He secured the reins tightly around a tree and patted the horse. He had no food with him to reward it and that only disappointed him more. Aquiline watched his every move until he finally came back. He was amazed by her all-of-a-sudden docility.  
  
            "What are those for?"  
  
            "Tinder." He reached his hand out to show her. Aquiline stared at the Native temperately. "It is required to start a fire.”  
  
            She nodded at him again. Connor knelt in front of her and put his back to work.  
  
            "You are too easy."  
  
            "I beg your pardon?" Connor lifted his head for a brief moment.  
  
            "To trust me like that. I could have made a run for it, Connor."  
  
            "Are you certain of it?" But she remained silent.

  
            “You are right. There is nothing left to lose.”

            Connor thinned his lips and began to start the fire. Aquiline watched his every move, and the smallest of details, and thus noticed the blood splattered all over his cowl. She yanked the blanket tighter around her body and felt somewhat terrorized. The Assassin looked up again and questioned her discomposure, but came to the conclusion: _One of us has been taught their entire life to take lives on command, and it sure is not her._

They were sitting on the cold forest ground with nothing but a fire and silence between them. He would constantly move over the logs with a stick and she would watch carefully.

            “My mother taught me how to start a fire.”  
  
            “Pardon?” She stammered. Connor repeated himself with a calm tone. “Ohh, yes. Forgive me.”  
  
            Back to silence. The night was calm and fluid, or so she thought. She reached her hands out to the warmth of the crackling fire. Her ears caught a variety of tunes: Owls hooting, frogs singing their perpetual symphony to the fireflies, and echoes of howling wolves. Aquiline glanced sideways.  
  
            “We are far from their reach, Aquiline. We are safe.”  
  
            “I am glad of it." The French turned to him: "Connor?”  
  
            “Hmm?”  
  
            “I recall that you owe me an explanation.”  
  
            Connor was caught off guard. Yes, he did owe her an explanation and a proper one as well. But to do so, he would go against Vincent's will and bestow that forbidden knowledge upon her. _Forgive me, sir. I have no other choice._

“Those people have been our –me and your father’s enemies for long. They are what we call the Templars. We have dedicated our lives in their pursuit. We only wish to put an end to their influence upon our world.”

            “Why have I not been informed about this before?”

            “No one has, not outside of our… Brotherhood.” Connor inhaled and continued to aimlessly poke the fire. “I am an assassin, Aquiline.”

            _Assassin? What is he talking about?_ Her father had told her that Connor fought in the army against the British and is a trusted ally of General Washington. Why would the general hire a killer as his personal tutelage? And just when she thought she was safe and away from any harm that emanated by those ‘Templars’, Aquiline realized she was vis-à-vis with another threat.

            “You are telling me that, my father was also an _assassin_?”

            “Yes. But he fought for a cause, for a creed. He meant no harm to innocent lives.”

            “And now he is gone. Papa, maman, mes frères. (Father, mother, my brothers.) And why? All because of this secret fraternity you speak of. ” Aquiline’s teary voice impaled his conscious thoroughly. _Great, now what?_

            “Aquiline…”

            “I want to go back to Boston.”

            “It is dangerous back there!”

            “At the moment I cannot tell if the true danger lies there or perhaps here.” She retorted.

            He jittered nervously and threw the wooden stick into the fire, watching it burn away. Connor did not have the slightest idea how to cope with her intransigent nature, as if the burden he carried was not great enough.

            “Do not be afraid of me, Aquiline. The only reason I am doing all this is because I am concerned of your safety.” He confessed. The fire projected strange shadows upon his face and she watched closely. “Look, you are not obliged to stay, not forever. But at least accept to take shelter for a fair amount of time, until the threat is remitted. I do not want to keep you against your desire.”

            He knew that was not what he really wanted. He would be lying to himself if he thought otherwise. His conscious was laughing right in his face, and he could feel the presence of something more. _Imbecile_ , it scolded at him.

            “Very well, then.”

            “Now please, sleep.”

            “But I do not want to.” She said.

            “Sleep is good for the mind, and body. And you need plenty.”

            She did not fuss any longer, not having the desire (or strength) to. At this time she would be gathered with her family, telling stories and laughing aloud. Or if words were absent, she knew that happiness always smiled upon them. Aquiline realized how quickly everything changed. And so she cried herself to sleep, under that infamous blanket, keeping those memories which seemed so far away close to her aching heart.

 

 

 

 


End file.
